


Killing Time

by MaJackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4264773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaJackles/pseuds/MaJackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has awoken a demon and his brother is holding him in the bunker's "dungeon". Dean is looking for ways to kill time.</p>
<p>Inspired by the following photo edit...and post season 9 finale thoughts...</p>
<p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing Time

Sam thought he had him contained and maybe he did, a little. The large devil's trap was nothing to him and he could break out of it whenever he wanted to, the warded shackles, on the other hand... He chuckled at Sam's apparent suicide watch measures he had taken. He stood here barefoot, in only his jeans, no belt, no shirt. Okay, the no shirt was his doing. It was too warm down here. He didn't know what Sam thought he would do with his boot laces...choke himself for kicks? It's not like choking himself would do anything.

He stood in the center of a large devil's trap, about ten foot in diameter. The shackles on his wrists were at the ends of a chain about twelve feet long that passed through a ring, bolted into the floor in the center of the trap. Every piece of metal had wardings on it, every link in the chain, the ring, the bolt, keeping him from breaking them. Once he figured out how to release himself from the shackles, he would blow this dump. In the meantime, he amused himself however he could.

He took the bowl of soup Sam had brought him and poured it out on the floor, outside the ring of the devil's trap. It's not like he needed to eat. He wiped it out with the napkin provided and set it on the floor. He bit into his arm, as close to the shackle as he could get, and let his blood flow into the bowl. When he had enough, he healed himself up and swirled his finger through the blood. After waiting a minute, he said, "Yeah, this is Dean, Knight of Hell, blah blah, blah. Tell Missy to get her curvacious, lily white ass, up here. Over and out and all that jazz."

Dean had learned that he could summon pretty much any demon lower in rank to himself and, conveniently enough, that was everyone other than Crowley. There were a handful of demons that were set aside by Crowley, to serve as underlings, or whatever, to him as the Knight of Hell. Missy was one of them. He had only seen her in passing and had never spoken to her. While he waited, he set the bowl back on Sam's tray and then thought better of it. He didn't need Sam knowing he'd been down here making calls. He stood there for a minute, holding the bowl, and looking around. After a moment's thought, he drank down the blood and licked the bowl clean. He set it back on the tray and was sucking any remaining blood off his fingers, when Missy appeared in front of him.

He grinned at her around his finger. She didn't grin back. Unacceptable. He had chosen Missy because she was a tiny little thing and that would serve his...needs...nicely. She turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings, finally settling on Dean.

"You're the new Knight of Hell? Rather unimpressed. You summon me into a devil's trap? Seriously? How am I supposed to leave? And...and...You're chained up? What the hell?" She put her hands on her hips and made a disgusted face.

"First, you can call me sir. Second, I can send you back when we're done here, no problem. And third? The chains? I stay here simply to amuse the human, Sam. Or rather, he amuses me. I'll leave when I'm good and ready. Anyway, you'd be amazed at the amount of intel one can gather while hanging out in the Men of Letters bunker..."

"You have got to be kidding -"

She never finished her sarcastic reply. The crack of Dean's hand slapping her face, echoed throughout the room. "Do you doubt me, you piece of dirt? You were appointed to serve me, were you not?" Dean's eyes flashed from a dark green to black, he flicked his hand, and she flew out to the edge of the devil's trap. She hit what seemed to be an invisible wall and hung there, pinned against the barrier the trap made.

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I mean..." she stammered.

Dean let her down and waved her to him. She hesitantly came forward. When she was within reach, he reached out, took her chin, and lifted her face to him. She was small of frame and light on her toes. She had black hair that she had pulled back in some way and it sprayed out in a fan of spikes at the back of her head. The top of her head barely coming to the middle of his chest. "I think you'll do just fine."

"What is it you require, sir?" She said, much more compliant than before. She looked down at her feet.

Well, Dean thought, she just needed to be shown her place. He put his hand on top of her head and pushed her down to her knees. "I have needs that I think you'll be very good at fulfilling." His voice came out in a husky growl. She looked back up at him and he winked at her, eyes going black again.

"Yes, sir. Whatever you need."

"That's so much better. You can start down there."

She looked at his crotch, noticing the bulge that was already pushing at his jeans. Without a belt, his jeans hung low on his waist, revealing a trail of fine hair leading down from his abdomen. She hesitantly reached out and started unbuttoning his jeans. Dean hummed in anticipation. His pants dropped to the floor and she got to work. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of going commando more often. It made things so much easier.

After a bit, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair and moaned. He thrust harder and faster. As nice as this was, though, it wasn't enough. Using the hair he was holding, he pulled her back up to her feet. "Take off your clothes." She reached behind her back for the zipper on the dress she was wearing and Dean kicked off his jeans. He never took his eyes off of her as her dress slipped to the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra. Dean grinned. "Oh yeah."

She shimmied out of her panties and he immediately lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he grabbed her wrists and moved them behind her back. He held them back there with one hand and moved until her back was up against the barrier of the trap. With his other hand he grabbed her by the hair again and attacked her mouth. This time it was she who moaned. He moved his kisses down her throat, to her collarbone and out to her shoulder. He nipped her a few times as he went. Moving down further, he bit the swell of her breast. She cried out and squeezed him harder with her legs. He took her breast in his mouth and sucked and nibbled. She was squirming in his arms.

He bit her other breast, harder this time. When she cried out, he thrust in to the hilt, in one rough motion, and covered her cry with his mouth. He started pounding into her and pulled her head back by her hair, kissing and biting her neck. She started breathing heavily and making little mewling sounds. The angle he was holding her at was perfect and his groin was rubbing her in all the right ways. He picked up his pace and she came like an explosion, her muscles milking his cock the final bit he needed. He threw his head back and growled with the strength of it.

"What the hell?"

Dean let go of Missy's hair and leaned against the trap's barrier as if it were a solid wall. "Sam."

"Who is she? How did she get here? What the hell, Dean?"

"How she got here doesn't matter." Dean sighed with satisfaction and lowered her to the floor. "And she was just going, weren't you sweetheart?" He turned to face Sam, turning her with him, so that she faced Sam, standing in front of Dean.

"Yes sir?" She wasn't sure how she would be going anywhere while inside a devil's trap.

"Yes, you were. You served me very well, Missy. Thank you." And in one fast movement, Dean whipped his hand around in the air, so that the chain coming from the shackle looped out into the air and wrapped itself around Missy's throat. Dean pulled his fist up, tightening the chain and turning her towards him. She reached up and grabbed at it, gasping for air, looking up at him in shock.

"Dean!" Sam called out, too little, too late.

Dean touched her forehead with the heel of his other hand and she smoked out, but instead of the smokey demon fleeing through the air, the smoke sizzled and glowed like embers in a dying fire. The smoke sizzled away to nothing and Missy's meat suit sagged in the chain around it's throat. Dean unwrapped the chain and tossed the body towards Sam. "You can have her, if you want. I'm done with her."


End file.
